Isabella is 17 months old today. Here's what the little bruiser has been up to lately.

Charlie is the wee one's go-to "lovey" and she's slept with him in her crib since she was about eight months old. Up until this past month, she's been content to leave Charlie in her crib when she gets up in the morning. Now, however, it seems she can't bear to part company with the little dog. She asks to take "Char" with her everywhere. I feel like I should go out and buy four Charlies to prepare for the inevitable day when it's bedtime or naptime and Charlie is MIA.

Her favorite activity by far this past month is stirring invisible substances in the pots and pans her Auntie Karrie gave her for Christmas. She'll often say, "Mmmmmm!" as she stirs, and then offer her concoction to whomever is close by so that we may taste the air meal she's prepared.

Isabella's play kitchen is definitely one of her favorite Christmas gifts. I figured that by placing said kitchen not five feet away from the desk where I work, she could merrily wash dishes, load and unload the dishwasher, and stack plastic fruit 'til her heart's content, while still being close to me. I could supervise her, interact with her, and encourage her play, and she would still have at least part of my attention while I attempted to do a little work. Everyone wins, right?

Unfortunately, no. She's still not reached that stage where she's able to play independently for any length of time. In fact, she seems to resent any time I spend with my fingers on my laptop's keys because when she sees me working, she often starts to pitch explosive toddler tantrums and pull me off my chair (literally) to play with her. Once I'm off the chair, she'll point to the floor or the couch where she wants me to sit. I'm about to reveal a startling fact. Toddlers are bossy.

Isabella is learning new words every day. Among others, this past month she's come out with "Nope," "Oops" (which sounds more like "ips"), "Yes," "Sippy," and much to the absolute delight of my 83-year-old great uncle, "Uncle." And while she used to refer to my cat named Chubbie simply as "Chhhh," she now calls her "Chubba."

"Dada" is now "Daddy" almost exclusively, while she still prefers to use "Mama" instead of "Mommy" for me. And she's made strides in her counting from last month. We can sometimes count from 1 to 10, although not all the time. If I say "one," she'll almost always say, "two." But now, all on her own, she'll start to count when placing blocks in a box or taking bits of food off her plate. She'll start saying "one" followed by the rest of the numbers, all the way to ten. Although she doesn't seem to like seven, which she often skips.

Isabella has never been a big climber. We don't have a coffee table or any other low-to-the-ground furniture, so other than occasional stair-climbing (which she was much more interested in doing when she was crawling and learning to walk), she's preferred to wreck havoc at ground level. Now she's started trying to climb the couch, and occasionally, the chairs in our dining room. I am anticipating many more massive head wounds, like this one, because graceful, my daughter is not.

Current Likes: Having her back scratched, doing the Downward Dog yoga position

MrMan is also not a huge fan of 7.What is it with these kids thinking all life should revolve around them?! ;) Any time we open the laptop, MrMan assumes it's because we want to watch the Rhino Song with him. Ha.

She's so sweet! When my nephew first took to his "Teddy" my brother and Cat actually made sure there was more than one so he'll never be without if anything happened. My poor brother. When he was little his baby teddy disappeared somewhere between Filene's and the parking lot. My mom got a new one and did everything she could to make sure it would be a good replacement. Lesson learned.

Quick Snapshot:

34-year-old writer andmother to a daughterborn in August 2006 followingIVF and girl/boy twins born in October 2008 following FET. Come along as I document the search for my lost intellect. It's a bumpy ride. Consider yourself warned.